Night Run
by Kalarys
Summary: A young boy finds himself running for his life when evil strikes out at his family. If he is to survive, it will take all his courage, wit, and stamina, and a great deal of luck.
1. Night Run

Darren is more exhausted than he's ever been in his short life.

He can't remember exactly how long he's been running, but it feels like an eternity. Terror wars with caution as he presses onward; he's been in forests like this one enough to know the dangers of moving carelessly at night. He scans the ground before him attentively as he moves, but the light of the moon is murky through the forest's canopy, and roots and other pitfalls are shrouded in shadow. In the back of his mind, he hears his father's voice warning him of the great many things that come out at night to eat small boys. Past the sound of his own breathing, his pulse raging in his ears, and his own footsteps, he thinks he can hear a rustling from the bushes behind him.

He decides he can risk the forest creatures.

He picks up his pace. Every bone in his body is weary, and his lungs and aching muscles scream for him to stop, to rest. But the fat man is still behind him, he's sure of it. The fat man obviously wasn't used to exerting himself this much, or he would have caught up to him by now. Past his terror, through the adrenaline, Darren knows that his only chance is to keep moving.

With a jolt, he realizes that the trees have started getting smaller, and are spaced more closely together. His heart sinks as he realizes he must be nearing the end of the forest. Whatever pitfalls and monsters the forest had concealed, it had also provided some protection, slowing the fat man and preventing a clear enough line of sight for him to cast his magic. He casts a hopeful glance off to both sides; through the dim light of the moon, he can see the outlines of more trees. These, too, are getting smaller.

Abruptly, the forest ends, the cover of the trees disappearing. He stands on a dirt road, about twenty feet across. On the other side, the trees have almost completely vanished, without them the moon illuminates the world almost as well as the sun. About ten feet from the road on the other side, a steep embankment drops down to meet the rapids of a mighty river. Darren's heart freezes in his chest at the sight of it.

He's trapped.

For a moment he stands there, chest heaving, mind racing. Rustling from behind him adds urgency to his thoughts.

He has one chance. If he can take the fat man by surprise, before he can cast his spell, maybe he will live through this night.

He rushes across the road, finding a likely set of bushes. They don't need to be too big, just enough to hide him for those few, precious seconds.

Behind the bush, he takes a deep breath and clears his mind. Keeping his breath controlled, he reaches for the source of his own power, eyes lighting despite the situation when he grasps it. Body tingling with new energy, a thrill goes through him at his success. His parents, he thinks, will be so proud – he chokes back a sob as the image of his parents as he'd last seen them flashes through his mind. He wipes fresh tears off his face with the back of his hand and focuses, normalizing his breathing and trying to remember the practice lessons he'd had with his father.

Across the road, the fat man bursts out from the forest onto the road and comes to a stop, looking about wildly. His fine clothes are in tatters. Scratches and tears show that the forest took it's toll, while large scorch marks bear witness to something else. At the sight of them, Darren's eyes fill with tears once more; his mother had always loved fire.

When the fat man finds nothing, he clenches his hands into fists and bellows.

"I know you're out here, you mewling worm! If I have to come find you, your death will feel like an eternity!" He pauses, looking around as if expecting Darren to come walking out towards him, then curses. He starts walking towards one of the other bushes, cursing more as he walks, and Darren's breath starts to come faster.

This is it. It's now or never.

Silently, he leaps from his hiding place towards the fat man. The energy he'd gathered blazes from his core, down his outstretched arms, and into the space between his hands. His mother had always loved fire; like his father, Darren prefers lightning.

With a crack, blue-silver lightning arcs out towards the fat man. The fat man had been turned to face another set of bushes and so the blast slams into his right shoulder from behind and to the side. The force of it is tremendous – the fat man is thrown to the ground.

Darren barely dares to breathe as he watches the still form for movement. For a moment, all is still. Then, with a whirl, the fat man lunges up from the ground, a greenish white-bolt flying from his hand. Before Darren can move, the bolt hits him square in the chest, throwing him backwards.

With a crash, he lands on the bushes he had hidden behind earlier. Thick, gnarly branches jab into his spine, but he can barely feel them through the pain of that greenish blast. It takes him nearly ten seconds to fight past the pain enough to take a breath, and he nearly screams at the agony when his protesting lungs obey him. Opening his eyes, he sees the largely colorless light of the moon take a greenish cast. His heart plummets, and when he tries to move he discovers that his body is no longer obeying him. His eyes grow huge as he hears the fat man get up and walk towards him.

Even with only the moon to cast light, he can see that the fat man's face is dark with rage.

"You little _shit_! You pathetic, sniveling, little _worm_! Do you have any who I am? Do you? _Do you?_"

The last question was a roar as the fat man grabbed the front of Darren's shirt with both hands and threw him bodily from the bush to the side of the road. He lands hard, on his side, gasping for air as the breath is knocked out of him again. The fat man grumbles to himself as he walks towards him, and he can hear the rasp of a knife being pulled from its sheath.

"Filthy mongrel_ curs_ can't even _die_ properly." He stares down at Darren, then slams his foot into the boy's belly, ignoring his groan of pain. "One will have to do. Bastard can't say I didn't try." He starts to kneel down, knife in hand. Darren struggles wildly, screaming through clenched teeth, but his body refuses to respond.

A high, flat voice startles and interrupts both of them.

"Put the knife down."

Surging to his feet, the fat man looks wildly for the source of the voice.

"What the hell!?" From his position on the ground, it looks to Darren like the fat man has found the speaker. His voice drops menacingly.

"This isn't your business. Either go back the way you came, or keep walking." Darren can hear new footsteps as the speaker draws nearer.

"Not gonna happen. Put the knife down." He can hear a sharp, hissing intake of breath from the fat man.

"Listen, you knife-eared bitch, you really don't want to get involved with this. Leave now and I'll forget your face and your arrogance."

"I don't give three fleas off a dog's ass who you think you are – I'm not leaving. Put the knife down, _now_."

"You filthy, baseborn _bitch_!" A greenish-white light flashes. With a whoosh, a fireball impacts the fat man right above Darren, blinding him temporarily. The fat man squawks in pain and Darren can hear as he stumbles back. The knife clatters to the ground besides Darren's head. Two more fireballs whoosh in from somewhere outside his vision, and the fat man is driven further back. The sound of footsteps come closer, until Darren feels a small hand on his arm. A brief pulse of energy flashes through him, and he can move his body again.

He turns his head to look at this new person.

She's tiny. His tenth birthday is in two months, and he can tell even crouched over him the way she is that she isn't much taller than him. Her clothing is sturdy and well-suited to travel. Her ears have long, delicate points.

And she's _pissed_.

"Kid. You okay?" Her voice is tense. Darren swallows. For how small she is, she's clearly a powerful mage. If he wants to live through this, she's his best hope.

"Yeah. Thank you." She murmurs acceptance, eyes darting to the fat man, then to the knife on the ground, then back to the fat man.

"You're a blood mage." Her voice is flat, and colder than a glacier's heart, as she stands. Darren shivers and pushes himself up to a sitting position beside her. The fat man responds, his tone contemptuous.

"I am a _magister_, you baseborn wretch. One who does not fear the ancient arts, one who embraces -" Her shriek cuts him off.

"_You're a goddamn stinking blood mage!_" With angry, jerky movements, she summons a massive fireball and throws it at the fat man. With a yelp, he dodges to the side. It impacts the compacted dirt of the road, leaving a smoking crater. He responds with another of his greenish bolts, but she deflects it with a wave of her hand.

"It's mages like YOU, asshole, that got us all into this mess!" She throws another massive fireball.

"Because of mages like you, I have to leave everything and everyone I love behind!" Another fireball.

"Because of mages like you, I have to spend my life running!" He barely manages to dodge as she launches another fireball. Desperately, he summons a larger greenish orb and flings it at her. Darren throws himself out of the way, then turns back, heart in his chest, as the orb impacts. The strange woman takes the impact on a single outstretched hand and snorts.

"Magister my ass." She turns to look at Darren, then back at the fat man. "Where are his parents?" The question is flat, without inflection. The fat man is panting, shoulders slumped, one knee on the ground.

"Screw you, bitch. I'm not telling you a damned thing."

For the first time since he started running, Darren speaks.

"He killed them." The woman turns back to him. Clearing his throat, he continues.

"We were camped off the main road, sleeping. He got my dad and me with that spell that makes it so you can't move. My mom woke up and fought him off enough that we could move again. She likes fire, like you." He shoots a furtive glance at the fat man. "Then he killed her. I heard her die. My dad told me to run, so I did." He sniffles, chokes back a sob. "I heard him die, too."

The woman turns back to face the fat man. Flames come out of her hands and dance up her arms.

"Sounds like you found yourself a demon." Flames drop down from her hands and surge in a two lines towards the fat man.

"What did it promise you?" She starts walking closer to him. Her voice is quiet, almost conversational.

"Gold? Power?" She snorts derisively. "My money's on beauty." His voice shakes as he replies.

"I-I don't have to explain myself to the likes of you. Do you h-have any idea w-who I am? You'll pay for this." The flames from her arms have expanded to cover her entire body. The lines of flame dart out away from each other, arcing out and back towards each other, forming a circle of flame with the fat man in the middle.

"I hate it when the Templars are right. You are a blight upon this world, human. Disappear."

She raises her arms, palm up, and the flames on her body and in the circle flare violently. Darren watches in horrified fascination as the flames form a vortex, searingly bright. The fat man has one moment to scream as the flames roar, brighter than the sun.

Then they vanish. A dark, charred circle the width of the road is all that is left. Darren turns back to the woman, spots clouding his vision, in time to see the flames recede on her body, leaving no evidence they were ever there. His mother had been a flame mage, just as this woman was, but nothing he'd ever seen before tonight had prepared him for this display. She turns to face him, staring for a moment. Then she speaks.

"Do you have any family nearby?" Mutely, he shakes his head.

"Damn. Not surprising, since you're a mage, but still." She cracks a wry grin at his surprised look.

"That was some pretty good lightning you did there. I know some adult mages who couldn't have done better." Her grin fades.

"But that leaves us with a problem. I'm being followed by Templars, no more than half a mark back." His eyes widen at the term. He'd been taught by his parents for as long as he could remember to fear that group.

"Yeah, so I really need to keep moving, but I can't take you with me. Maybe if you were older, but...no." She turns, spits on the ground.

"Goddamned Templars." She stares at Darren for a long moment, then sighs.

"Listen. You need to wait here until the Templars get here, and then go with them." He opens his mouth to protest, and she holds up a hand.

"I know, I know. But it's two days to the nearest town, and you don't have anywhere else to go. If we were somewhere else, I'd say wait for a likely merchant caravan, but there are a fair number of bandits in this region. The Templars are assholes, but they'll keep you alive." Her gaze bores into his.

"If you don't go with them, you'll be dead inside of a week." Silence reigns for a long moment as he processes her directive. She looks at him, clearly debating something, then she sighs. Reaching up, she unclasps an amulet on a chain around her neck, then moves to kneel down in front of him.

"This is a special necklace. It will make it so the Templars can't tell you're a mage." She hesitates for a moment. "But they don't know we can do this. It's really, _really_ important they never find out what this can do, OK?" She looks into his eyes intently. He nods emphatically, and she smiles.

"Good. Okay, here we go." She puts the necklace on him. As soon as the amulet on its chain touches his skin, he feels a...mask go over the magic part of him inside. He can still feel it, but it feels...distant."

"Whoa." At the expression on his face, she snorts a laugh.

"That's one way to put it." She turns, looks down the road the way she came, turns back to face him.

"I have to go. I need to keep as much distance between them and me as possible. I'm sorry to have to leave you, but...you should be fine if they don't know you're a mage." She gives him a tight smile, squeezes his arm, then stands up and starts walking away.

"Wait!" She turns back, eyebrow raised.

"Thank you." She smiles.

"Any time, kid."

He watches her until she passes out of sight.


	2. Grief

He settles down to wait.

The past evening seemed to be one long blur of noise and adrenaline. The bright lights of fire and magic seem etched into his eyelids when he closes his eyes, and his ears ring with the sound of screams and explosions. Now, at last, the dauntless quiet of the forest at night reclaims the road. Even the thundering pulse in his throat settles, and his breathing calms.

He turns his head to look in the direction of the charred circle where the fat man had died.

It starts slowly. For a while, he stares into the dark, unseeing. His breathing is calm, quiet.

A single teardrop falls to the ground.

Another follows, then another. Before long, tears fall in a steady stream from his face to the ground, and he curls around himself, hugging his knees and sobbing in near-silence. The force of his sobs shakes his whole body, but he lived too long with his parents on the run to let them out in full, and so he muffles them as best he can, even now.

His parents. In his mind he can see them as they had been when he had bolted from the campsite. He'd had almost no time, seen so little, but between the flashes of his father's lightning and a few small fires – probably his mother's work – what he had been able to see was more than enough.

His mother had been dead before he even made it outside the tent. A flash of lightning had revealed her body sprawled face-down fifteen feet from the tent's opening. A sapling had fallen next to her, desiccated and leafless, though the previous morning had seen it green and strong.

His eyes had caught on his mother's body before his father's bellows broke through to him. Lightning flashing from both hands - a feat Darren had yet to accomplish – his father ordered him to run. He had considered disobeying. He couldn't just _leave_, and it wasn't like his father could possibly lose. His father had bellowed again, more forcefully, and this time he had obeyed. He'd run for no more than thirty seconds when he saw the flash of green light and heard his father's shout cut off with frightening suddenness. Some part of him had known instinctively what that meant, and so he'd begun running in earnest.

And now he would never see them again.

Even if he could find his way back to their campsite, which he was not at all sure he could do, all he would find were bodies. Bodies that would bear evidence of whatever foul magic the fat man had used to overpower them, as well as the attentions of whatever forest creatures managed to find them before he did.

Never again would his mother's sharp tongue send her husband and their son into fits of laughter, her stern brown face undone by the crinkle around her dark eyes. Never again would he sit in front of the campfire, entranced, as his father spun stories of old gods, the Fade, and the Blights.

Never again.

They had expected to be separated eventually, at least for a time. He was just old enough, now, to have really noticed how many Templars were around, and to be impressed at how successful his parents had evidently been at avoiding detection. Part of him, the childlike part, believed that this luck would continue to hold forever. Other, wiser parts realized that this was almost certainly not true, and further realized that many of the things his parents had taught him were to deal with that exact eventuality. So he had set about enjoying life as fully as possible, aware that their future was uncertain but also that at worst, his family faced imprisonment in a Circle.

That feeling of preparedness seems to mock him now. The grief would have crashed down on him regardless, with shock and exhaustion to give it strength, but this was worse. The maelstrom of loss, helplessness, and shame hit him like a hurricane, leaving him completely defenseless against the sneering voice inside him that mocked his pride, his weakness.

_You thought you were so _smart_, didn't you? So clever for seeing so much, for seeing where things might go. So blasted _smug_, weren't you? _The voice laughs. _You're not smart. You're not clever. You have _nothing_ to be proud of. You're _weak. _You're _useless. _ If that woman hadn't come by when she did, you'd be just another corpse in the woods. Like Mom. Like Dad. You _left_ him. You left him to _die. _And now you're just going to leave them for animals to find. Like so much garbage. You're _worthless.

The voice goes quiet, mostly. Darren lays there in the bushes, hugging his knees, tears streaming down his face. He says nothing back. There's nothing he can say.


End file.
